As a novelist, I'm incredibly lucky to make a living, but that doesn't mean that I don't lie awake at four o'clock in the morning, worrying.

Letters, like compilation tapes, were really vehicles for unexpressed emotions and she was clearly putting far too much time and energy into them.

She had reached a turning point. She no longer believed that a situation could be made better by writing a poem about it.

…and you smile back and try not to think about the fact that you have nothing, absolutely nothing, to say to each other.

I think you actually get a kick out of being disappointed and under-achieving, because it's easier, isn't it? Failure and unhappiness is easier because you can make a joke out of it.

…and Emma felt another small portion of her soul fall away.

Envy was just the tax you paid on success.